Bloody Frog: Rewrite
by Mars and Kitkat
Summary: Aiden Bonnefoy isn't like other kids. He was never told of his parents' pasts. But when he discovers a forum over the internet for other teenagers in his same situation, all curious to discover the hidden secrets of their families, a whole new world of secrets, pain, and maybe even friends is revealed. Past MPreg, OCs, FrUk, Sufin, Spamano, DenNor, GerIta, PruCan, AusHun, RoChu
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Bloody Frog  
Rating: M  
Warnings: Undertoned smut, language, MPreg, teen drama, slight gore  
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia!**

Summary: Aidan Bonnefoy has always lived in an odd family. Honestly, he was used to leaving in the make-up of himself, his younger sister, his mum and his papa, and he'd learned not to question the fact he hadn't ever really... met any extended family. But secrets had been numerous, rooms were commonly blocked off in their homes, and they were always moving when something bad would happen, always around Europe. 

**However, he does get curious one afternoon, and goes searching to see if the patterns of his parents match up with any others... and once again the internet pays off. There's a forum for kids just like him that's dying, with two members that post their findings every couple weeks. And he's decided to revive it, and attempt to uncover what's been hidden from him for years. Little does he know the consequences of opening up such a world of pain, loss, anger... and maybe even a few friends. **

**In case you're unfamiliar with the original of this story, I highly recommend you don't read it. It was, perhaps, my first serious fanfiction series, and definitely my one with the highest reviews until Brit Next Door. However, I wrote it back in my recovering weeaboo days, back when I was obsessed with yaoi and Mpreg, and it was a complete rip-off of stories just like it. **

**So, I decided, out of embarrassment and a little bit of longing to write it again that I was to trade in my doitsu and numerous MPreg with no good reasons in for a more solid plot, way less couples with children, and human names used throughout. **

**I hope you enjoy this way more than the other one! **

* * *

Arthur's heart was racing. His breath was slow and agonizing. For one of the first time's in his life, he was truly at a loss for words. Nothing could really compare to the feeling right now. There was only one word to describe the endlessly confusion joy throbbing in his mind.

Love.

"Arthur, you're one in a kind," Francis glided out. Smoothly... like cream. That's what he always reminded the Brit of. Soft cream pouring through a cup of brown coffee, creating beautiful pattern in each inch it touched. The metaphore seemed to describe the flirt perfectly as he continued. "A precious jewel to be admired from afar. Like a jewel, you really do seem to appear to be tough on the outside. But with a bit of buffing and shining, he gorgeous insides that fill you echo out. Je T'aime, mon lapin. Tu es mon belle bijoux."

Arthur felt a bit inferior to those sparkling blue eyes staring at him expectantly, with a grace no other could carry. Hot breath brushed across the palm of his hand, hovering and warming a specific spot in the middle of the skin.

"I'd like to carry your beauty by my side for as long as you'll have me," Francis breathed out. From his pocket, he retrieved a small box, simultaneously working himself to one knee. This caused Arthur to squirm, knowing exactly what was coming next. He'd already had his moment of surprise. Now it was time to get his bliss.

"Arthur James Kirkland, would you do me the ever so graceful honour of wedding me?"

"Francis..." He breathed out, hardly loud enough to be heard. His knees wobbled dangerously, threatening to collapse any second as he worked it all out within his mind.

"Just say yes, Art!" Alfred butt in from the back of the room, outgoing and brash as ever.

"Francis, I'd love to!"

Cheers and applause erupted in a sudden frenzy from across the room, though Arthur had his mind on other things than the witnesses that desperately wanted to congratulate the newly engaged couple. The emerald-eyed male was swept into the arms of his older lover, a gentle and loving hug embracing him tightly.

"Must you go so far out to make a point?" Arthur whispered into the Frenchman's ear, letting his forehead rest on the other's shoulder delicately. "Planning all this;... the dinner, the hundred guests... even the band?"

"You're worth it." He answered back, plain and simply. "You're worth all the efforts and more."

"Hey, Francis! You get him for, like, ever now. It's my turn to spend some time with my own groom to my best man." And there was Alfred, the helpless romantic that chose just the right times to prove his interest in the lovey-dovey scenarios he wasn't supposed to be a part of. Arthur was forcefully pried from his fiance, forced into a conversation with the other.

"What could you possibly want?" Arthur grumbled, folding his arms in irritation. "Could you not have waited until we made last call for the animals?"

Alfred laughed sarcastically, bringing in his shorter ex-care-taker to rustle his hair under a tight grip. "Oh, come on. Do you have to be such a bitch on your own wedding day? I just came to say congrats, dude."

"That's rather unexpectedly sweet of you, Alfred..."

"Yeah, but I also came to bother you."

"Should I have expected less?"

"Haha, of course not!" Alfred grinned, folding his arms in content and releasing the other. "So, what now? The big-bad Mr. Pirate stuffy king is gonna finally settle down? Adopt some kiddies?"

Arthur's face was coated in red as he pushed the other in retaliation. He didn't necessarily know why the situation seemed embarrassing, but he wasn't used to being paired with someone in such a way.

"Hey, but if ol' beard-face gives you any trouble, I guess I'm here, 'kay? I don't want to see you crying or anything. What a gross sight." Alfred muttered, turning his nose up in the mocking fashion Arthur did, snickering all the while in a posh accent.. "I _do _say, it's rather unsightly!"

The next moment, Arthur's fists were upon him, and blocking himself, Alfred spun and covered his head, letting the other pummel his back.

"Arthur-san!" Kiku's fingers grabbed his right fist, catching it in mid-air heavily. Arthur turned his attention to the ancient man close to him, stopping himself in the wake of punching the other's eyes out.

"Thanks, dude!" Alfred cackled and took off in the other direction. Kiku watched him depart, sighing at his constant antics.

"Yes, I can see why you'd be hitting him," The Japanese man breathed out, before completely turning his attention to Arthur. "Anyways, I'd like to say congratulations."

"Thank you." Arthur nodded with a gentle smile. "I'm glad you're being sincere... and not... well... Alfred-ly."

"I'd also like to wish you the best of luck with your rather... touchy husband." Kiku nodded to himself.

Arthur knew it was obviously the wrong word, though he understood exactly what he meant. Francis had always been a flirt. Though he had a love for the human body itself, not just the sexual side of things. It didn't seem as if that was understood by the nations. Of course, Arthur admitted Francis certainly did enjoy sexually oriented topics or actions.

Speaking of the Frenchman, where was he?

"Francis!" Arthur practically shrieked, spinning on his heels. He laid a rather rough slap to the other's cheek, face burning up in anger and humiliation. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, and the other was terribly likely to repeat his actions, but did he have to touch Arthur's ass in the middle of a big crowd?

Francis winced from the pain pulsing in his cheek, but otherwise seemed unscathed. He stood erect, instead slipping a hand around safer areas as his waist, and drawing him in close to his body. "Oh, come now. It's not as if anyone but dear Kiku bore witness, ma chatte. Even then, I think it very well demonstrates my love for you."

"And every other damn nation..." Arthur grumbled under his breath, refusing to look up at the other.

"Hmmm?"

"You know exactly what I mean!" Arthur protested, clenching his knuckles into a tight fist. Francis couldn't pretend. He knew everything. Maybe not book-wise... but somehow he read Arthur like a book. "No more sleeping around, or I'll have your head."

"I promise to only love you," Francis vowed, running a gentle hand across the other's cheek. "No one-"

"Ludwig!" Feliciano's shrill voice rang over the bustle of the very huge crowd. Soon, the duo appeared, the smaller boy attempting to drag Ludwig over as fast as he could go. Though he was much too small to make a huge difference. "They're over there. Hurry!"

"I see them. I know." Ludwig sighed. He'd unhook his arm, but he got the feeling the smaller leech would simply cling to him again. "They aren't going anywhere, Feli."

"But we need to get there before anyone else does. I have to tell something important to Arthur!"

Arthur's eyes widened as he realized he was the running man's target. Between the time it took to unwind himself from the Frenchman, and to begin escaping the scene, he was completely tackled. The only thing to keep him upright was a nearby wall, as he was trapped between that, and a clingy Italian boy.

"Arthur! I'm really happy for you," He beamed, taking in the other's expression and pushing off his look of shock to the side. "Trust me, it's really nice being married to the one you love. Ludwig and I have been together for... 15 years now. But every day, he still wakes me up the same way he did when we first got married. It's like I fall in love with him anew each day."

The Brit truly hadn't expected such a sweet phrase to come out of the other's lips, and it took him by surprise. He blinked up at the brunette, letting a small smile come onto his face. "That sounds very sweet."

"It is! And I can't wait for you and Francis to be that way. Instead of fighting every second."

Arthur turned his eyes to his fiancé, spotting him in conversation with Ludwig. the Frenchman spared glances back to his lover every so often, signalling he was indeed talking about him. Probably nothing good.

"I don't think that's going to happen..."

* * *

6 months later, Arthur found himself looking rather dashing in a tux. His hair was combed, his very slight make-up to touch up his face was complete, and he'd dug out his best pair of shoes to complete the outfit.

Originally, he'd been asked by his soon-to-be husband to sport a frilly dress he'd picked out in a catalog but the idea was shot down with crude words, which came from both of them. In the end, Arthur had simply worn a clipped flower on top of his hair, that fell over his face in a veil. Quite the feminine addition to his outfit, but he doubted the other would let him escape without remnants of it.

Though, right now, the outfits didn't matter. Arthur felt his back connect with a dipping surface, as fabric engulfed his being. The springs below him squeaked multiple times, but the sound hardly interrupted Arthur's mission. Instead, he pulled the body hovering between his legs closer, and began unbuttoning the white shirt that remained. When, at last, he pulled it free, it was tossed to the side. His fingers immediately began running across his milky, nearly flawless, skin, wanting to drink up the feeling.

He, himself, was already nearly-nude. Francis had done a number on him in the hall, until the only thing left was his under-shorts. It wasn't necessarily a fast thing, nor a crazy thing. In fact, it had been going quite slow and gentle. Despite this, their venues weren't exactly the most romantic places, but it soothed their erotic needs the both of them shared.

"Je t'aime," Francis said in a hushed voice, fingers cupping his cheek. He trailed kissing starting from his forehead, leading all the way down his chest. "Je t'aime du fond de mon coeur."

Arthur shivered from the butterfly-like sensations fluttering down his torso, staring up to the man holding him in place. "I love you, too." He whispered, his heart jumping. What a perfect night it had panned out to be.

And through the darkened night, the two moved and gasped and clung to each other with deep satisfaction, completing their entire romantic connection, body and heart.

* * *

Arthur felt his stomach curling. He felt like he was to hurl at any moment. The food he'd taken in hours ago seemed to suddenly appear, and he felt it settled on the walls of his stomach, gears within him turning to show he needed to release it.

Francis noticed the change in his face, and the faint green tint that overcame his face. Just in time he'd seized the nearest trash-can, holding it firmly in place as the contents of the Brit's stomachs were dumped into the bowl-shape of it. He whispered calming words into the other's ear, his heart beating and mind whirling just the same. Only it luckily wasn't happening to he. It was selfish to be thankful that it was instead placed upon his lover, yes, but only by luck had he escaped this fate. Unless it was something only Arthur could really manage to do...

"If you'd like a few minutes to talk over your options, I'll be back in a few minutes." The doctor pardoned, feeling quite uncomfortable in the tense atmosphere that had settled across the room. Francis nodded his thanks, turning back to Arthur with a gentle frown gracing his delicate features.

"Mon chere, Tu vas bien?" He whispered, trying his best not to aggravate the sickened male. He took in the other's hand, running a gentle thumb across the skin his palm. "Do you need anything?"

Arthur suddenly snapped up his eyes, head dropping lazily from the nausea inside of him. His eyes were red from what appeared to be anger, and in a second he'd snatched his hand back to his own body. "Of course I'm not alright, you dank-brained rat!" He shouted with unexpected intensity. It stunned Francis for moments. "Do you think after... _that_ I'm going to march out of here like everything's dandy?"

Francis sighed heavily, irritation rising up the back of his throat. Being scolded with such ignorance wasn't his strong-point. "Arthur, I'm not asking you to. But since we can't change this, would you please let me at least try to accommodate your needs?"

Arthur stayed quiet, and he silently slouched back into his own body, holding himself to protect a warmth that didn't quite matter in the summer heat. It remained quiet for some time, neither of the two having anything they needed to say, each lost in their thoughts of worry and bemusement.

Then, quietly, Arthur raised his voice.

"I'm not saying I'm scared," He said bravely, distilled stubbornness edging his words. "But... Francis... I don't want this..."

Francis studied his expression for the longest time, searching for a sign of what his words had exactly intended to mean. "...Are you suggesting we get rid of them?"

Arthur took moments to respond. As he did so, he raised his head and looked at the man in worry and anxiousness. "Of course I couldn't just... kill a child!" He hissed. "But... dammit... I really don't want this to happen..." As if on instinct, his hand found his abdomen. It felt alienated to simply press his fingertips to the soft skin, feeling it's warmth radiating through his shirt. He prodded the area, testing for any kind of sign that proof was there. But it felt the same. The only change was mentally.

He sat back against the wall, eyes closing tightly. He simply wished he could block out the rest of he world. It seemed vile and cruel. Arthur had seen much suffering and turmoil in his days- indeed causing quite a bit of it- though it all seemed to come tumbling back in this unheard fate he'd never quite imagined. After all... he was supposedly... pregnant?

* * *

Around that same day, 1 thought had been haunting Lovino throughout the morning. In fact, it had occupied his mind and gone unsaid until now. The Italian pulled himself away from Antonio's tight grasp, turning to face the other with an angry look in his eye. "I swear I'm going to punch you in 5 seconds," He growled and folded his arms. "If you don't tell me what Francis said on the phone earlier."

Antonio glanced up in surprise, coming out from his once lethargic state and frowned at Lovino. "Lovi, sorry, but I can't! It was a secret, first of all, and I hardly even know what's going on." He twiddled his thumbs across his lap, refusing to acknowledge the angry stare he was receiving. "Come back onto my lap! We can relax together, si?"

The Italian instead folded his arms, refusing to be touched like a child until he got what he wanted. "Never."

"Lovi..."

"No. Not until you stop keeping secrets from me!"

"But..."

"..."

"Fine," Antonio sighed in exasperation, running a hand through his hair. "Eyebrows was... sick this morning. And has been for a while. Francis thinks it's something like the flu... but he's been having troubles lately within his economy... so they're not quite sure."

Lovino shrugged, settling back into his arms and brushing off the news without much thought. "Serves that idiot right."

* * *

Just one month following the doctor's visit, Arthur found his situation in a flip. He was stuck bed-ridden through every week, forced to remain the guinea pig to tests by scientists that visited and left, never to be found again. Needles were shoved into his arms, ultrasounds were conducted, and the one-and-a-half-month-developed child was already having its future planned before it had been born.

Francis remained at Arthur's side the entire time, delivering everything he needed when it was called. Their regular bickering and quarrelling had been banned for the time, as the risk of getting Arthur too stressed was high with all the chemicals and surgeries being done on his body. If Francis added any more to it, doctors were afraid the child might be harmed, and with a situation such as this, it was a terrifying thought that might happen.

In the beginning of the epidemic, an unsaid question hung in the air, tense. It drove them near madness, and each of the two refused to talk until it was answered.

_Do they keep the child? _

Eventually, a conversation was indeed forced, and while Arthur still stuck by his answer of not killing a child... he had certainly swung into the thought of the baby being just a... a thing in him. A thing that could kill him.

It took Francis an entire night of yelling and research until Arthur had agreed that he wouldn't get an abortion, though the idea of it was still fresh in their minds.

Arthur's voice was hoarse and tired as he spoke to the Frenchman in the corner of the room. "Francis, would you mind getting me tea?" He mumbled, his eyes heavy. He'd been given sedatives earlier, and he was quite exhausted from the after-effects. "And.. a pot. I feel queasy."

The blond man stood, nodding with a gentle smile, and quickly left to fetch the items. He glanced back towards his husband, sighing with a great deal of stress also placed on himself. It wasn't easy being the errand boy for everyone who needed him, and not getting much sleep himself... he was near the brink of passing out.

Though, of course, talking with Antonio every day about it was helping. Luckily, the cheery Spaniard wouldn't dare tell anyone. He had clear trust in the man.

* * *

The room of the meeting was teeming with life as always. The micronations ran free, playing tag with one another and disrupting the talk of the unfortunate adults that happened to invite them. The taller nations who believed themselves to be the best fought their dominance with each other, while their quieter followers settled about around them to watch. Alfred and Ivan battled off in the corner, Yao intervening and throwing fits to keep the bitter nations off each other. Matthew struggled with a drinking Gilbert and his brother, keeping up a good conversation where he could, but not quite understanding when they'd switch to German. No one but Feliciano quite noticed... but there were 3 countries absent from the room; Francis, Arthur, and Lovino. Indeed, Antonio was here, but remained quiet and glum in the back-side of the wide meeting space, denying all conversations that were forced upon him. Others watched him carefully, hardly trusting he didn't have some kind of plot up his sleeve. Any time the bubbly man was silent, bad things were going to happen.

Francis slipped into the room, though hardly any but Antonio noticed. The brunette raised his head, eyes widening, and he frantically waved his arms above his head to get Francis's attention. Francis did spot him, throwing him a smile, and mouthed something over his shoulder. In a few moments, Francis stepped through, a bent-over Arthur under his arm. Strewn over his shoulder was a very long, thick coat, bunched up and tied around his middle. It didn't take any more of a genius than Antonio to figure out why, and briefly he settled back into the chair and looked on. The couple made their way over to the table, Francis drawing out a chair and forcing Arthur to sit. The Brit kept his vision off of Antonio, and there was a clear awkwardness between them, both from Arthur's embarrassing secret and their past angers.

"Merci for saving our seat, Toni," Francis said with a half-smile, too much building on his shoulders for it to be genuine. "Where might Lovino be?"

"Bathroom," Antonio muttered and pushed his hand through his head. "He keeps running off in the middle of things. But he's been drinking a lot more liquids... so I suppose it's nothing bad..."

Francis squeezed his shoulder comfortingly, and took his place by the Englishman on his right. "We'll only stay as long as possible. If you need to go for some reason, we can go."

"I'll be fine!" Arthur snapped irritably, his arms tightening around his abdomen protectively. "...Did you bring anything for nausea?"

"Merde...non. I left it out in the car."

"Godammit."

"Something wrong?"

"I'm just... sick. But I can make it through."

Francis nodded and planted a firm kiss on the Brit's palm, massaging it between his warm hands carefully. "I'm sure-"

"Everyone, take your seats!" Ludwig shouted, his words echoing off the walls of the crowded room. The nations complied, pushing past each other to find their spots in a flurry. Though the ancients eventually settled down, most paying close attention to what the German was going to say, while the others either continued hushed conversations, or zoned out completely. "For today's topic, first we'll discuss the latest problem of global warming...!"

Antonio cast a glance at a moving figure in the background, as Lovino hobbled into the room with his head low. He caught the Italian's eyes, drawing him into his arms as soon as he got close enough and settling him down into the vacant chair. "Lovi, where have you been?"

"Sick." He said briefly with an angry voice, his hands massaging at his head. "I don't want to fucking be here."

"You got invited by Feli. Of course you couldn't let him down!"

"...But I feel like shit..." Lovino grumbled and layed down against the chair-back, his eyes closing. "Wake me up tomorrow."

"Hey, Francis, Lovi's sick... do you have any ibuprofen?" Antonio whispered as he leaned over, capturing the attention of the blond.

"Oui, in my bag... just a moment-"

"Francis, get me the trashcan." Arthur demanded in his other ear, his voice quivering and urgent. "Right now."

"Just a second, mon amour." Francis nodded, continuing to dig.

"Antonio, my head fucking hurts!" Lovino snapped in the background, crawling over his lap and glaring at Francis. "Give me the damn medicine."

"I know, Lovino. I'm looking."

"_Francis_." Arthur hissed.

"Hold on, Arthur!"

"Cocksucker, look faster!"

"Francis, Lovi's getting really antsy..."

"I need the dust-bin, Francis!"

"I'm searching for the medicine!"

"Francis..."

"Ta bouche!" Francis threw his bag on the table, angered beyond what he could normally handle, and folded his arms as he sat back with a huff. "Get your own things! I'm done!" He turned his blue eyes up, realizing quite a few people stopped to see what was happening. When Ludwig noticed, he turned fiery eyes towards the 4, glaring at them with heavy eyes. "What's happening over there?"

In an instant, Arthur fell out of his seat, and practically crawled over to the nearest black trash can. His face disappeared, and retching noises echoed out through it and disturbed many of the others. Francis felt a sort of guilt for denying him, and slipped down into a sitting position by his lover, patting his back helplessly. "Désolé..." He murmured calmingly, eyes tired and apologetic. "Just let it out, mon lapin."

"Artie?" Alfred frowned, also appearing a few seconds later to support the hurling Brit. "Hey, y'okay?"

"Just d-dandy." Arthur choked, and wiped at his mouth with the sleeve of the coat. "It...must have been something I ate..."

"Well, if you're 'kay then I'll just, like, clean up this stuff or something." Alfred grinned, and began picking up the contents of the bag. Francis nodded his gratitude turning back to the Brit. "Merci...-"

"Alfred!" Arthur croaked, suddenly remembering the contents. "Wait!"

"What the hell are these?" Alfred frowned, pulling himself onto his knees. In his hand was a bottle, a clear picture of a baby on the front. "'Prenatal vitamins?' Arthur, you carry some stupid shit! There's, like, everything in here. Pregnancy tests... back-pain cream... did ya get someone knocked-up? I thought you two were so 'hopelessly devoted to each other,' or something like that."

"That's my bag," Francis defended, snatching the contents back and tucking them away under the table. "That's enough."

"So it was you!" Alfred gasped, amused by the plot development in this situation. "Wow, Francis! I thought you were the country of love, not cheating! Now who was it? Liz?"

"Alfred, this can be dealt with later."

"But I wanna know _now." _

Elizaveta wasted nothing but a moment heading over to the side of the table, and she took the time to watch over the Brit, brushing his hair from his eyes and glancing over his pale face. It took her but moments to process the information... and when the connection had been made, his eyes widened in shock, and she fell back away from Arthur, followed by a disbelieving stare. Her eyes trailed from Francis to Arthur, to all the other witnessing and quiet men and women and children around the room.

"That's impossible..." She mumbled, and poked at the other's cheeks for effect. He glared up at her, his face burning red. He fumbled to pull the jacket closer around himself, hiding his face within the fabric. If he had tried to speak, no sound came out anyways. "Arthur..." She said in a hushed voice. "...Are you... _pregnant_?"


	2. Chapter 2

Madness described the current predicament quite accurately.

There was a sort of madness in the chaos that had erupted between the Italian, Spaniard, Englishman, and Frenchman in the corner of the room. There was madness within the idea of the countries turning their attention quietly to the sickened Brit heaving up his lunch like a dog. There was madness in the fact anyone had put two-and-two together.

And there was extreme madness in what Elizaveta was asking.

"That's crazy." Arthur managed to say after about a minute of gaping, shivering, gathering his voice, and turning an extreme shade of humiliated red. "How would that even happen? I'm...I'm just sick, alright...?!"

His face contorted to one of worry and he leaned back over the small, stench-filled trashcan, choking out the last of his breath as the weeks of medicines and chemicals, along with the withdrawals, began catching up with him.

Elizaveta said nothing as she watched, and it twisted Arthur's guts. Even if she was convinced of the fact he had somehow gained a child through that kind of conception, he would have liked it if she would back off now.

"Dude, that'd be fucking creepy!"

Shit.

Yes, Alfred had finally responded from what seemed to be utter shock of the situation and the news. His face had turned an odd shade of pink, and he was laughing in a peculiarly hesitant way to be unconvinced of what she had said. "C'mon, Art's pretty weird, but he couldn't knock himself up, could he?"

Shitshitshitshit_**SHIT**_

"Alfred, just stay silent." Francis muttered, laying his hand gently on the American's wrist. "Sit down. He just has food poisoning."

Apparently, Alfred's verdict had been loud enough, everyone else in the room had heard. And now, a hundred eyes trained on Arthur with fiery curiosity, disgust, and confusion pertaining to this. Even the ever loud Gilbert had stopped his rambling to watch for the final resolution.

Hardly able to stand this any longer, a very peeved and embarrassed Arthur broke into the scene. He forced himself from Elizaveta's grip, pushing through the wall made by chairs and standing nations trying to get a better view. He grabbed harshly on the doorknob, knuckles turning white, and forced the door into a loud slam after he had parted, drawing up a stunned silence.

"Francis, deal with him!" Ludwig demanded from the front of the room, though even he was tinted with a hint of a cautioned questioning. Nodding, the Frenchman stood, followed by his favored Spaniard friend and said man's boyfriend. As if walking down death row, they slipped from the room as silently as possible in search of Arthur.

* * *

"Oi! Tea-sucker! Get the fuck out here!" Lovino called out in an angered flurry. It was clear he was stressed out by the fact he had to search for someone he heavily disliked, while carrying a burden of a headache and a nauseated turning of his stomach.

Antonio's lips turned up drily, holding back a sigh at the tactics of his lover. "Now, Lovi, that's not a good way to draw him out-"

"I'll fucking break your neck if you don't hurry the hell up!"

"...Old habits die hard..."

"Arthur, please," Francis muttered as he continued on his way, peering down hallways, into dark closets, anywhere he could find. Poland had designed this meeting house himself, completing it with twists and turns unimaginable to the average human. It took almost 10 minutes just to talk in to the lobby of the building. "We need to get back inside. The racket we caused was quite...unsettling. Do you want people to suspect you even further?"

A rattling sounded down the hall. Though it was faint, the group picked up on it quickly. Francis's shoulders drooped, and he motioned for the pair to stay back while he went to confront his lover.

"Arthur, mon cher, are you in here?" He called gently, prying open the door he'd heard the noise in. His eyes took seconds to adjust to the darkness of the huge room laid out in front of him, and when they had, he took in the scene around him. In the middle of this area was a long table, which had to be used as another sort of meeting room. Around were stacked chairs, and a ghostly emptiness. Francis near turned away before his eyes caught hold of a movement in the corner. Indeed, a speck of blonde brushed against one of the chairs, the figure huddled in itself, tucked into a large jacket.

"Arthur..."

"Get the hell away."

"You can't just march out of there like that. They're going to be wondering."

"I don't care! Let them think what they want!"

"Don't you think it might be time to tell them...? We only have a month or two left."

"Maybe I don't want it anymore!" Arthur's voice rose to a dangerous level, signaling his anger and stress levels were rising. "Have you ever considered that? How the hell would we even raise it! There's a reason we're not supposed to be able to conceive. There's a reason _I'm_ not supposed to be able to: Because we'd be terrible parents! We'd treat them wrong... we'd be only obsessed with ourselves, and..." He took a moment to breathe, shaking at this point. "We'd watch it die. It wouldn't be able to live forever, even if we wanted it to! Why not just end it now? Before... before..."

Arthur had hardly noticed the Frenchman slinking over to the area he was. Not until the tears had begun falling. His throat ached as if it was going to shrivel up and turn to ash, his head hurt from all the yelling he had done, and dizziness swept over him in seconds.

"We'll deal with this all later, I promise." Arthur heard Francis say, and barely felt his arms encircle him to pull him close. "Just calm down." His words only bounced off his head. Arthur's mind grew heavy, and his limbs fell to his side. "Are you alright?" He blinked a few times, attempting to keep himself awake. Though, within only a few moments, his entire body felt like iron and he slipped from consciousness.

* * *

Fingers teased at the base of Arthur's many locks of hair. Gradually, the Brit began to get a vague awareness of the scenery around him. To his right, a few bodies stood, though it was easy to mistake who they were. In front of him, a tall, though muscled figure bounced from foot-to-foot, throwing glances back at Arthur. And to his left, a patient, though familiar, man dressed in a long white coat spoke to the group.

The person touching his hair was none other than Francis, whom teased and pulled out tangles from the strands as he listened, distracted.

"...be fine. It was just a mix from the stress and his... condition."

There was a murmured understanding from all in the room, and that was when Arthur began making out faces as the fog in his mind cleared. The doctor who had been speaking was one of the ones that had taken care of the blonde for the past couples weeks. He was one of the only ones who showed up continuously. He was mostly in charge of checking his blood levels, and often gave him anesthetic when he was feeling too anxious.

The ones on his right were Feliciano, Lovino, and Ludwig. Antonio was nowhere in sight, which was odd. Typically, he didn't let his ex-henchman anywhere out of his sight. And lastly, to his front was none other than the American country himself. Until now, Arthur had hardly noticed he had a smaller figure behind him, which turned out to be Matthew.

It was quite the family get together.

Everyone was quiet for quite a while. Arthur relished the time he had in silence for the smallest bit of the moments, but he quickly grew uncomfortable, as it seemed all were waiting for him. Now that he began noticing it, an IV was taped into his arm, and he was in clear, white sheets that had tangled around his body and formed a mesh that covered everywhere up to his chest area, which was covered by a patient's gown. That must have been why he felt a bit parky.

Arthur shifted his weight in the slightest onto his side, causing a creaking noise to echo through the room. All eyes turned to him and he froze, which obviously gave away the fact he was now awake. Once this was realized, most coughed in an embarrassed hesitance that gave him the suspicion of something he completely feared.

Everyone had to know by now.

While the others turned away from Arthur, facing the wall and pretending they hadn't noticed, Francis simply let his grip tighten to show his acknowledgment, and scooted further next to him until they were touching.

"Arthur, do you need anything?" He asked lightly, ignoring the fact the two were getting multiple stares.

_"I'm fine. Get everyone out."_ Is what he tried to say, but when he realized his throat felt like a desert, he shook his head simply, looking down at his hands with a very clear frown. Francis got the message, at least.

"Do you want us to leave?" He tested with a softness to his voice that hid the fact he was practically kicking everyone out.

Arthur shook his head. After all, he needed to talk with Francis and at least found out what had happened while he was out. But the others, who had been watching for his reaction, simply relaxed, taking that as a message they could stay.

The Brit clenched his jaw, drawing up his arms to his side. Tension echoed through them as he attempted to force himself to sit up, though he still felt rather weak and lightheaded. Francis attempted to assist him by leveling him against his body, to which he was rejected with a glare.

Arthur took around 30 seconds, but he had finally settled into a sitting position against the fluffy pillows, and let his exhaustion out in a breath. His mind was spinning as he tried out his voice. "Why are you all here?" He demanded, his voice starting hardly above a whisper and crescendo. "I'm just a bit woozy is all. There's no need. Get on your way."

Alfred's eyes showed a dash of confused auras, a cup of irritation, and 3/4ths part bewilderment. "Artie, they told us everything."

And in that moment, Arthur's worst fears became true. He suddenly felt even more nauseous as his face heated up, turning a mix of a deep red with a green tint. He honestly couldn't tell whether he was going to throw up from his daily sickness, or the thought of them looking at him with an unsaid disgust.

The intensity of the next minutes that followed only worsened Arthur's sickness. Knowing everyone knew... knowing the kinds of comments he'd get... knowing just how weak he must have seemed in their eyes. His entire body was burning. He turned his eyes away as quickly as he could, averting them to stare at the corner of his bed. Francis touched the top of his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze to rally him from any thoughts he was having.

"Is that it, then?" Alfred muttered, and folded his arms while he looked expectantly down to the quiet man. "You're not even going to explain what's happening in your own words? How the hell did you even...?"

Arthur felt his entire body tighten. His head hurt, and right now, he just wanted to lie down and rest. Not deal with a babbling idiot and the stress he brought along with him. "I don't fucking know!" He snapped, his eyes flaring in anger. "If I knew, don't you think I would have said something?!"

Alfred stepped back, his mouth snapping shut.

"Arthur... maybe you should calm down?" Matthew suggested in his quiet manner, a light frown passing over his face. "Al didn't mean to make you mad. He's just... a bit confused. We all are."

The way he spoke visibly calmed the man down, and he sat back against the head of the bed, his breath thick as he listened to Matthew.

"Listen," The Canadian continued. "We're just... worried about your safety. If you need anything, go ahead and ask us, okay? We're all here for you." He gave him a warm smile, and motioned for the others to follow him out of the room. Hesitantly, one-by-one, all left but the lovers in the center of the room. Even Feliciano decided to go, but not without throwing his arms around Arthur, wishing him luck, and scurrying off after Ludwig.

Arthur rubbed at his chest to soothe the dull ache, which had been assaulted by none other than the Italian. Now that he noticed, a lot of him hurt.

"The rest of the meeting has been postponed until tomorrow." Francis assured the other, and stretched out along the comfortable mattress Arthur laid upon. "So, you have quite a long time to rest."

Arthur gave a rather patronizing looks to Francis, which resembled much that of a child. "I don't even know how you could think I'm going back to all that bullocks. The meeting was pointless, poorly run, and..."

Francis nodded, quite understand what the other was thinking. Hell, Francis always knew what Arthur was thinking. It bloody annoyed him to no ends!

"Tomorrow's the day we're discussing things." Francis informed him, holding up a finger to silence Arthur as soon as his protests had begun. "Even if you think it's something you're dealing with on your own, mon lapin, it's quite a big deal that includes everyone. We've only had issues with children being born a handful of times, and those, as you know, have not turned out well in the end. It's clear they all fear the future of our child, oui?" He gave a warm smile to Arthur, adding in a brisk kiss to his forehead as a way to prove his point. "You already know the dangers... so let's not place it all on you."

"Idiot..." Arthur simply added, before, once more, he felt exhaust wash over him.

"Sleep well, mon petit chouchou~" Francis bid with a sing-song tone as he picked himself from out of the mess of covers. "Bonne nuit~"

* * *

Walking down that final hallway felt the same as walking down death row. No one was around, which made sense. Arthur was still forced to be escorted to the doors by the doctor- to which he now knew to be under the name Eric Phills- though the man couldn't come inside to such a restricted area. The twisting path had passed by much quicker than Arthur expected, and suddenly he was at the entrance, and the gent Phills was nodding his goodbyes, heading down to the area he was designated to wait for the meeting to be over in. Arthur felt Francis lightly tug on his shirt, and looked over to see a supporting smirk on his face. Oh, how much Arthur wanted to brush that right off...

And, suddenly, the very wide, double doors opened, creaking open from the ages they'd been left closed. Arthur sucked in his breath, suddenly realizing 100 eyes were focused on him, and there was dead silence. The Englishman felt a scowl form on his face from the attention, and pushed past Francis, marching proudly to his chair placed at the back end of the table. However, Ludwig caught his arm half-way there, his eyes stern as he drug him back with him to the front of the room.

"Let me the hell go!" He demanded and pushed the German's heavy hand off of his arm. "I can walk myself, thank you!"

"Sit down." He ordered without hesitation, pulling out a chair next to Feliciano and motioning towards it. Without much more protest, he set himself down, wrapping his arms around himself as to hide any fact he had any misshapen parts from... all of this.

"The world meeting of 1994 has been put off until today for many reasons," Ludwig began, and this cued the chatter amongst everyone as they began bickering, laughing, crying, or kicking once more. "Though the main one was to discuss the fate of the child you've all heard so much about."

Peter quickly raised his hand. This caused any nations who noticed him to grown. Ludwig almost overlooked him, but decided he should have a say in this as well.

"I think we should take it from Jerkland!" He shouted so his voice would carry, though still small. "He's treat it just like he did with me!"

Arthur hardly paid attention to what was being said, faking the fact he was taking notes on a piece of paper in front of him. Instead, he was quite focused on the headache all the noise was giving him.

Over the course of the next 30 minutes, shouts and suggestions that were incredibly stupid were given to him.

"Put it up for adoption...!"

"Teach it to grow into a nation...!"

"Give it independence from him...!"

"Abortion?"

Arthur felt his hands clench at the last suggestion. It'd been three months. Three fucking months. There was no way someone was taking away something he'd been having to deal with for this long in sickness that easily. "How about," He began in a loud voice, standing up to face all the people calling out ideas. "You let _me_ decide, instead of leaving it to a room full of... _imbeciles!_ Just because you all think it's completely fine to sacrifice something, I'm not going to do that to my child!" His face was red with anger as he spoke, the past few days of pain, traveling, and stress overwhelming him. "I know I haven't been... accepting of the situation but... I'm not laying the future of this kid in your bloody hands."

With that, he brushed off himself as to hide the fact he just had another outburst, and slipped back down into his chair, not giving his eye to anyone else in the room.

"Arthur," Elizaveta said gently as he stood, waving a hand to catch his view from across the room. "There could also be a lot of damage caused by raising a child in such an environment, including the threat of other countries." She shot him a look before he could speak, challenging him to interrupt her while she was on her role. _"So_, I think the best thing for you to do was to raise the child with Francis as normal." She smiled gently as she continued. "But away from all of this. You should act as normal parents. Give it a normal life. When it reaches 18, you could tell them about this. And they could either choose to continue on as a human and move on, or stay in this life. Like... with Bence..."

Arthur hardly caught Alfred's worried eyes as he trailed around the room. He shot his glance back, noticing, indeed, Alfred seemed troubled by this. Almost as if he was already predicting Arthur was going to say yes. That he was going to break off and leave for who knows how many years.

"Well?" Ludwig muttered, turning to Arthur with a raised brow. "What's your choice going to be? Give it away... or leave?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Rating: T  
Warnings: Language, Slash, past Mpreg, OCs **

* * *

**Hey, all! Yeah, I haven't updated this that recently, but I didn't have internet until yesterday, and it's where I keep all my stories! So, thank you for continuing to read this! Despite the not-so-great plot. **

**For those of you that read the original Bloody Frog in all its glory (IE doitsu, aruaruaru, da da da, kesese, i'm the hero!1! etc) I'm making this story a lot different. Same plot and idea, but different in the way they meet, so it's not so cheesy. I'll add more mystery here and relationship development! So, thank you! **

**Enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

Fear. Absolute terrible fear. That was all a certain blonde felt as his long legs carried him down several different hallways, directing him through a crazy maze he didn't know the way around. His blue eyes darted anxiously down every hallway he could find, searching for the small figure he so desperately needed to find.

Off to his right he heard a giggle. It made him stop dead in his tracks, and swerve off in the direction of the pattering footsteps he now heard gliding down the staircase and out into a more open space.

His heart raced and his throat stung from both the adrenaline pumping through his head, and exhaustion coursing through his veins. If the boy didn't stop now, he doubted he could make it back to his base.

He reached the bottom of the elevated stairs, and that's when he saw it. The antagonist holding the so-desperately-needed key to the puzzle between grubby fingers. And she was dangling it above a bottomless pit, while it grumbled with a terrible sound that echoed through the teen's bones. His eyes widened as he realized the other's intentions. And that's when time slowed down. He took off running, reaching out desperately and flinging his body towards the figure about to release the blonde's one life force. The thing he needed the most.

"Wait!" His voice boomed somewhere deep inside him as he lunged, tears stinging his eyes from the thought of it all ending in one terrible moment that would leave him wounded forever.

"Clementine!"

A loud bang sounded around him, and suddenly, Aiden was dazed. His breath caught and his head spun, everything around him out of focus. But, slowly, piece-by-piece, it all worked back into his mind. The first thing he made out was the very obvious kitchen around him. The island and its stools stood tall and proud nearby, sparkling with their everlasting cleanliness from the perfectionist of a family that owned them. Nearby was an old but working fridge, with shining, white cabinets lining the walls. Under them were the matching, cream-colored counters, containing a sink that was vibrating rather loudly from the turned-on garbage disposal.

Aiden was propped against a very sturdy section of wall, after colliding and hitting his head against the nearby door. And why, exactly, had he given up brain cells and possibly gotten a concussion?

Standing right in front of him, swaying with a faux innocence that could never pass, was a stocky, short and very tainted young girl. Her dirty blonde curls, that only went down to her chin, bounced with each move she made, deep green eyes batting eyelids that made her cuteness clear on her surface. In her hands was the one thing she had been chased for. The one item Aiden couldn't bear to part with, and this devil had threatened to destroy in the running disposal.

Aiden's cell-phone.

"A?" Clementine grinned, attempting to grab the attention of the dazed and very peeved blonde. "Are you okay~?"

Aiden wanted nothing of it. He brought himself to his feet, dusting himself off, and wasted no time seizing the electronic from her hands. This succeeded in amusing the young girl, who fidgeted from foot-to-foot as she awaited the scolding that was sure to come.

"Don't touch my things!" Aiden said with his usual grumpy tone, shoving the cell within his jeans-pocket full of crumbs and past trash. "I'm busy upstairs. Don't bother me again."

"But, A!" She whined. Her tiny hands shot out, grabbing hold of his sleeve as she looked desperately towards her brother. "Mum said you'd make me lunch. It's already 3 pm. Where's my food?"

"Make it yourself."

"Aaaaaa~..."

"I'm in the middle of a game. C'mon, Clem, just this once, let me off the hook."

"A!"

Aiden's jaw clenched at her tone. He would get in a shitload of trouble if he denied her for long periods of time. "Fine." He finally muttered, knowing the sooner he fixed her a cheap meal, the sooner he'd get to level in his MMORPG, 'Taunting Hollow.' He had just gotten Mage status 12B. One more level and he'd have the power-up flash! "And get off the counters. I don't want your hair in the food again!"

"That was Papa last time!"

"I'm sure!"

Despite his rather angry attitude at the moment, Aiden wasn't that bad. While he could be grumpy from lack-of-sleep- which his constant gaming and use of the internet caused him- he was usually pretty chill, even being the flirt he was born to be with the females around him. The downer was the fact he home-schooled. Ever since he was about... 6? His family moved around different parts of Britain. Up until Clem had started schooling when Aiden was 12, they'd never had a steady place to stay. This meant he had to be taught from the books and online courses, as forming relationships with classmates wouldn't last. But that was fine. The teen was used to it.

Aiden couldn't help but spare a glance to his younger sister colouring away in a glittery book to remain preoccupied. She was kinda like Aiden in the way she wasn't all bad. But she could be pretty bossy and had a short-temper. Everyone blamed his Mum. She was pretty much like him- except SHE could at least cook- but was more oriented towards showing herself off. She didn't give a care towards other opinions. Which was pretty damn cool.

Within the same time it'd taken him to begin making it, the boy had prepared a meal fit for two of Macaroni and Cheese. Aiden grabbed his plate, heading back up towards his room without as much as a goodbye. But it was just standard. Most days, everyone was busy.

Once back inside the safety of his room, the blonde hopped over his mess, his feet planting between nook-and-crannies to reach his computer. His mum pushed for his room to be cleaned often, but Aiden just didn't have the time. Now that he thought about it, his 'Mum' really was a perfectionist through the time they had known each other.

That was a part that got to people. He had two fathers. While it wasn't THAT odd, the fact he looked so much like them both kinda was. It was almost as if they were meant to be a family.

Yeah, both Clem and Aiden knew they were adopted. While their parents never really told them, it was obvious in the way it was the only thing possible. But they didn't care. Their Mum and Papa were still their parents, no matter the blood in their veins.

But his Papa was a different story from his other parent. He was very outgoing, kind, talented, and really just an awesome guy. It didn't bother him to be showing his clear flirty and romantic ways to his children, but he never went into the PG-13 stuff until the kids were out of sight. It was cool, though, to see his parents expressing their love. It was nice to know they still had it for each other enough to have a kiss every morning before they left for work. (What did his parents work as? Eh, it didn't matter. Simply details. )

Downstairs, the 10 year old girl had switched on cartoons. Probably Spongebob or something of the sort. But Aiden had more important things to do.

As soon as he'd settled into his office chair, he set to work on using his hatchet to chop down the oaks and yews scattered around him, to work on his wood-chopping skill. That would lead him into burning them for Fire-making, which would finish off with cooking those monk-fish he'd caught on the other island. It was the perfect strategy.

_BrenchMutt5: C'est ma terre._

On screen, a straggler had wandered over and begun stealing Aiden's tree. Because this was a France-based server, he could only assume the other spoke French, which he had used to claim his land. Within seconds, the other had replied with a sad emoticon and hurried off to bother someone else. What a noob.

BrenchMutt5. Aiden's screen name. Okay... maybe not creative. But it worked. His father was French, and his mother was British. BritishFrenchMutt. BrenchMutt. Made sense, right?

Aiden right-clicked, fully prepared to begin chopping down another tree, when the door opened at the front of the house, rattling the hanging wine-glasses that littered the walls as an extravagant decoration. The teen groaned, knowing that could only mean one person had come home from the store.

"Aiden!" Arthur's voice rung out just as expected, summoning the boy from the deep pits in the house. There was a soft pause before he continued, and the sounds of prying the small Clem off of him sounded with a grunt. "Come get groceries!"

The hardly-willing one stood from his computer desk, scarfing down a few bites of his noodles. He scooted towards the door of his room, tearing it open and ripping down the stairs to meet his Mum before his Mum went to find him.

"I'm here!" He called to assure the other he hadn't been ignored, coming face-to-face with Arthur in the middle of the living room. The other glanced back at him in surprise, throwing a green-eyed and calming look towards him, and offered a gentle smile as greeting.

"Be a dear and assist Clem. She's carrying too many bags at once." He said with a heavy sigh. Arthur rubbed at his temples, as he did quite often when faced with the silly girl's antics. "The fr-... Francis-... your _father_ will be home soon and I'd like to have everything put away and ready for dinner since it's a Friday. We have important news to discuss tonight."

"'Mmkay," Aiden muttered, brushing off the statement. He'd find out sooner or later. "But isn't it kinda funny to watch he struggle? She's gonna tip over."

"Aiden, go help."

"Ssh, I will!" He insisted, taking his time for the possible chance Clem would topple into the nearby mud-puddles from the early-spring showers. No such luck was granted today, and instead Aiden was forced to take the bag of eggs and carrots Clementine had stacked on herself.

"Thank you for the fun today, A~" The young girl sang in her sibling's ear once they were situated in the kitchen, unloading the many bags around them. Aiden's eyes narrowed as he glanced down to her, knowing exactly what she meant. "Maybe we can do it next week with your PSP?"

"Oh, go stuff yourself."

* * *

Dinner was quite an event at the Kirkland-Bonnefoy residence. Everyone partook in the events, whether it was setting the table or assisting the cook- which Arthur was banned from doing. That particular night, Clem happened to be setting the silverware, Aiden was loading the plates with heaping amounts of food and serving drinks, Francis cooked, and Arthur had the duty of turning off electronics around the house, and preparing the music the family often listened to.

The extreme pride Aiden's parents had for their home-countries caused fights over things like music, or where they bought their China, or the types of foods they ate constantly. While Francis had many songs from over the centuries he would love to harmonize with on tape or CD in beautiful, flowing French, Arthur had multiple tracks on album that were pretty hardcore rock, some on CDs that were very beautiful, classical songs, and even a few pretty recent songs that had tickled his fancy. It usually ended in Arthur being first one to the record player, which meant they had no choice but to listen to Beethoven and The Beatles for the hour they spent together.

The set-up had finished rather quickly, and each were settled at their respective seat, humming the tune of "Here Comes The Sun" playing overhead. After a very quick blessing of the food, the children set into their plates like mad-men. However, Arthur coughed heavily to catch their attention. Aiden looked up, spotting his Mum looking away from them in slight embarrassment from what was probably coming next, while his Papa smiled warmly at them.

Francis clapped his hands loudly together, making Aiden and Clem relax once they knew it was good news. "On Sunday, ta mere and I will be departing to head to Austria until Friday. For a little... vacation."

Aiden choked on the spaghetti hanging half out of his lips, slurping it up quickly as he struggled to speak quickly. "What? We're going to Austria? Why didn't you tell us until now?"

His parents shared a quick glance before Arthur spoke. "_We're _going. You two are going to stay here. I'm trying to arrange for a baby-sitter to come back and check on you two- mostly Clem- a few times that week. Other than that, we're going to write up a schedule for cleaning and meal-making duties."

"Why are you going so suddenly?" Now Aiden really was curious. What was in Austria the two needed to just run off to?

"It was sort of a... last minute decision," Arthur continued, seeming unsure of it himself. "I promise it's nothing of worry. We're just visiting a few people."

"Wait, Mum!" Clem cut in, tilting her head curiously. "Is it any of our family? Could we maybe come too? I promise I'll be super good if we do! I really want to meet them, since we don't know any aunts or uncles or cousins or anything like that. It'd be great if you brought us along-"

"Non, Clem." Francis cut in. If they didn't stop her now, she'd talk for an hour. "It's not family. "We don't have much to say on the matter now. Maybe when we come back. For now, just know you two will be staying here, and someone- probably Ms. Cozette down the street- will be watching you for us. If she can't... you two will just be here alone."

Arthur brushed aside the food he hadn't yet consumed into organized piles. A quick lick of his lips let him talk again. "Let's go over the rules. I don't want anyone over, particularly your friends Clem. Don't go into our room, don't go into the basement, and don't touch the forbidden closet. Make sure you go to bed at your bed-times, and, Aiden, no all-nighters. Don't eat sugar until after dinner, and please, don't go snooping into our stuff." Arthur thought for a few minutes, clarifying he had specified every rule. "If anything is questionable, call us. We'll leave emergency numbers up. Is that it?"

Francis confirmed it with a nod. "But," He said, his voice heavier than it typically was. "Don't answer the door to anyone who appears to be off... Like... possibly in suits? It sounds silly, but we don't want you dealing with them, oui? They'll know you're home, but I doubt they'll do much else than knock. Just be prepared for them to come by."

Aiden was a bit creeped out by the description, and it clearly unnerved Clementine. Typically, yeah, he trusted his parents, but having weird people coming to their house while his parents were gone? Yeah, scary. "Who are they?"

"Tax-collectors." Was all Arthur said in his brisk way, before he began clearing away dishes from the table, picking up forks and spoons and wiping up table scraps into his pile. "Clem, time to go draw your bath and get ready for bed-time, alright?"

The child nodded, smiling widely, as she bounced down from the table and smoothed out her floral dress. "I love you, Mum~ Je t'aime, Papa! Bonne nuit!" She bid farewell and headed upstairs towards her bedroom. Aiden wiped down the surface of the table, before also following her path. "Goodnight!" He called down the steps, it being returned in both English and French, and slipped into his room quickly.

"This is weird..." He mumbled as he began organizing his scattered clothing and chords, knowing he'd be scolded for it later. Aiden glanced back to his door, feeling as if, possibly, someone was listening to what he said. "Disappearing is weird enough... but when tax-collectors come around? What are you guys, fugitives?" He sighed heavily and rubbed his temples, flopping back into his rolling office chair. His screen clicked to life, displaying the simple but HD graphics of Runescape. With a shrug dismissing it, he indulged himself in the fantasy world of imps, goblins, dragons, and wizards, which seemed to easily symbolize his parents.

* * *

Saturday brought along nothing of significance. It was actually pretty uneventful, which disappointed Aiden. All he was able to do was help his parents in packing, receive the news Ms. Cozette would indeed be watching them on Monday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. Great.

Clementine, however, spent her day organizing her Mum's clothing in its suitcase, despite the protests of him. He did a rather precise job, of packing, sure, but Clem couldn't help with much else besides hauling, which was going to be done at night, and she was bored from the sitting around.

"Mum, where's your dress shoes?" She called from the downstairs living room, wanting to make sure nothing was forgotten. "Oi, Mum!" She tried again, receiving the same silence throughout the house. Clem pushed herself to stand, irked she wasn't being answered. Where was her parents?

"Muuuum~?" Clem called softly, inching through the upstairs of the house, which brought on nothing but a gaming Aiden glued to his computer screen. She trotted back down the steps, knowing there was only one other place they could be.

Clementine had been down to the basement once she could remember. Back when she was 1. It was a while ago, and she shouldn't remember it, but she did. She remembered a lot of her infant years. It was cool, but it also meant remembering potty training, sharing a bed with her parents while they gabbed over who had better ideas, and all the painful years of being a baby.

The basement was the most memorable moment, however. There were piles of dusty books, what she'd later know to be as video tapes and DVDs, old cameras, and crazy artifacts from across the years. It was like a history lesson packed into an underground room. There were also two desks, which were stacked high with papers and old pens, bleeding ink on a few different documents. Clem had been carried by her Papa, after Francis had run off to find her Mum. And indeed, they did find Arthur, buried behind piles and piles of pictures and letters of people she didn't quite recognize. He sat silently, absorbed in the memories found in each item.

"Remember this?" Arthur had said drily, trying to sound sentimental, but something was bothering him that was clear. He held up a photograph of himself, standing in the corner of the room by himself. On a large banner were the words, 'Happy Birthday, Hero!' "Alfred had been so proud of his party-planning... the police got called in from noise complaints..."

And that was as far as Clem could remember.

The familiar path was winding out in front of the girl with each step, though her breath was also heavy and quick. While it wasn't banned to be outside the basement, her parents made it painfully clear not to go inside. It's where they would often hang out when they needed to be alone or talk, and each time they went in, they came out angry or bitter. It was just a never-ending loop.

Voices sounded from behind a heavy, oak door, making Clem stop. She almost retreated back to the safety of her room, but her natural sense of curiosity got the better of her. She slowed down her pace, making hardly a noise as she crept up to the hunk of wood and rested her ear against it.

"...should have told them sooner." Arthur was the first voice. He sounded distressed. It sent a chill down Clem's spine. "Who knows how they'll feel now?"

"We weren't supposed to tell them until 18. You remember, Arthur, oui? It was the plan."

"We also weren't supposed to give away so much. We have two children. One will be 18... but the other? She has another 8 years. What if Aiden decides to break off. Won't she ask where her big brother has gone?"

There was silence. Arthur had made a point.

"Arthur, are you scared of something?"

"Of course I'm not! I'm not some bloody wuss. I just don't think it's fair to keep this from them. We'd done so much before. Should we take them along?"

"Non. Ce n'est pas possible. We had an agreement."

"What about all of the others? Ivan, Yao, the Tomato-twins.. how do we know they've kept it secret?"

"I talked to Toni last year. He said he needed to talk to dear Lovino about it. Listen, it will be fine, Arthur. We'll be fine. Just leave it at that."

"I found you, you little snooper!" Clementine jumped in immense fright as a voice rang out behind her. She was grabbed from behind, and brought into the arms of a laughing and very strong Aiden, who tickled her a few times. Despite herself, she couldn't help but giggle, but soon realized the racket they created.

"Stupid, I'm listening! Put me down or they'll hear!" She demanded as she was set to the floor. Aiden cocked his head, confused as to what she meant.

"Listening to-"

"Dammit, I'm checking what that noise was!" Came Arthur's muffled voice, followed by stomping foot-steps. Clem freaked out, grabbing hold of Aiden's hand despite the clear size difference, and began jumping up the steps.

"Hurry up, A!" She hissed with the fear of begin caught.

Aiden shrugged, letting himself be drug up the stairs, and they continued to run until they reached Clem's bedroom. She shut the door quietly, making it look like she had been playing upstairs with her sibling all along.

Outside the basement, Arthur scanned around. The duo held their breath until he had deemed it unnecessary and headed back inside.

"What was that?" Aiden grumbled, the doll placed in his hand winding up at his feet. "What were they saying?"

"I don't really know..." Clem admitted, glancing down towards the floor guiltily. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop but... I just kinda heard them talking... They were talking about, like, telling us something? Or refusing to. Not until we're 18. And, apparently, once you find out, they'll send you away or something! Aiden, please don't go!"

"I really don't think they're getting rid of me," The older boy scoffed and ruffled his sister's hair. "Was there anything _important_?"

"No, not really..." The young girl muttered and glanced back to her dollhouse. "Some names. Like... Ee-Von and Yow. Tomato-twins? What's that about?"

"It's probably nothing." Aiden assured her. He gave her one last goodnight, helped her in cleaning her room, and headed back to his bed. His computer sounded of soft fantasy music, but the blonde had other things on his mind. "Probably nothing..." He repeated. It sounded less and less believable as the words were echoed in his mind. "Or maybe it's everything..."


End file.
